Two Birds in the Hand
by aeskis
Summary: Zoom leans down, gripping the kid's chin and forcing his face toward the camera. "Enough story time. I have a script for you." He kneels fully, and without warning, simultaneously yanks Barry's head back and his body up with one hand, while the other wraps around the boy's throat. "Look straight at the lens—yes—and tell the good Central City police not to fuck with Zoom."
1. Chapter 1

Leonard Snart isn't an evil man. He's not a good one, certainly, and if he leaves a couple of dead bodies behind on gigs, he's not going to cry himself to sleep. Len likes what he does too much to stop and there's a steadily growing dossier in the CCPD station to attest to his continuing streak of successful robberies. Snart's been very high on their list of criminals to put away in Iron Heights. It's possible that Len isn't totally displeased about that. But there's a lot of smoke in the show he puts on to maintain his image.

Then, about a year ago, Zoom entered the scene, and gave law enforcement an entirely new and infinitely more dangerous subject of focus. Along with him he'd brought along people with superhuman abilities—metahumans, that was the popular term—as minions. Now he's drawn a ring of terror around and throughout Central City. CCPD is literally standing still while Zoom races by, doing whatever he wants, which is generally to kill and destroy. Zoom has proved time and again that the whole police force together no match for him. To be fair … what is?

The people of Central City are dying to know the answer to that question—in the most literal way. Sometimes Len gets a whiff of a rumor that a biochemist is working on a serum to incapacitate Zoom, but that's all it's been. Rumors. Wishful thinking born of desperation.

Len's thinking it's time to lay low and not draw a madman's attention to his exploits. But, sadly, Leonard Snart's reputation as a master thief precedes him. Len can't say he's taken by surprise when Zoom strolls into one of the most secure of Len's safehouses. More specifically, he strolls through a triple-bolted door into the living room while Len is eating breakfast with Lisa—because, it's true, not-so-bad guys do eat breakfast.

Lisa screams at Zoom's sudden appearance. Len would like to scream with her, but he can't reveal that kind of vulnerability to a monster. So, Len finishes the remaining mouthful of omelet and then pushes the plate away before turning his gaze to Zoom, who is standing incongruously a few feet away.

"Sorry, we finished off the eggs," Len says, as casually as he can. "You'll find a few pancakes on the stove, though."

Zoom laughs. That's what Len assumes he's doing. The reverberating sound makes his ears hurt. "I didn't come here for the food."

Len gives a sidelong glance to Lisa, warning her to stay quiet, before schooling his face into a coolly puzzled expression. "Then how can I help you?"

"I'd like you to steal something for me."

Before Len can answer, before he can even formulate a response, Zoom is gone. And … he's taken Lisa, leaving Len staring at the single red-gold strand on the palm of his hand, glinting in the sunlight.

Now he's chained to the wall in the corner of a lair—a lair! Villains had honest-to-God lairs?—awaiting Zoom's instructions. Len watches the play of shadows at the cavern entrance as the hours tick by. He's familiar with the tactic—making targets wait. Sweat. Run themselves into the ground in mindless panic.

There's a rush of air, and then he's not alone. Zoom's standing in the center of the room, waving an expansive arm and talking. Len recognizes the theatrics of a megalomaniac, but to soliloquize? This man's batshit crazy.

No, there're two people—a man and a woman—retching at Zoom's feet. Len can sympathize. His stomach didn't find the ride appealing either. He cranes his neck to get a better view of what's going on.

"Get up," Zoom says, his tone mild despite the command.

They're young … so young. Not so much a man and woman as a boy and girl frightened out of their wits. They jump at Zoom's artificially deep growl.

"I get my victims in pairs." Zoom is saying. "I'd like to say it's for the company, but honestly, I do it because two people are easier to control than one." He looks at his newest acquisition, whose pallor is apparent despite her dark skin. She's frozen with fear. Zoom examines her critically. "Looks like overkill in this case, though."

"What—what do you want?" It's the nerdy-looking young man next to her, rather forgettable on first glance next to the stunning beauty of his companion. He's edging in between her and Zoom; it'd be laughable—as if Zoom couldn't get past him, through him should Zoom so choose—if the attempt wasn't so sad.

Zoom's gaze slides to the boy. Len's had that look trained on him before, and however much of a genuine badass Leonard Snart is, Zoom's conspicuously sadistic insanity had chilled him to the core.

It's not like the kid's unaffected, either. He's white and shaking but stands his ground in front of the girl. Len has to admire him. Stronger men haven't dared to get in Zoom's way.

Zoom reaches behind his head and methodically removes the mask to reveal a strikingly handsome man whose face has been on the news all week. Hunter Zoloman could have been an actor if he hadn't decided to focus on murder instead.

"You and Miss West were walking together at the time I came to … pick her up. I hope you didn't mind the impromptu ride."

"Why are you targeting Iris?" The girl seems to wake a little from her shock and tries to pull him back away from their captor. The boy doesn't budge, but Len can see his right hand reaching behind him to clasp hers tightly.

Zoom is dismissive of this interruption. "I might as well let you both know." His smile is condescending, as though he's expending more generosity than they deserve. "Unfortunately for you, Miss West, Detective Joe West is your father."

Realization dawns on both captives, but if anything, the knowledge frightens them even more than their prior ignorance.

"To recap, Detective West led the investigation that revealed my everyday identity." Zoom indicates his unmasked face. "Now I can't even show up at Jitters as myself. Shame. The cappuccino is better than anywhere else in Central City. Then again … I'm not confined to one city, am I?"

Iris's voice wavers precariously as she confirms aloud, "You want revenge on my dad. You're getting to him through me."

"I'll get to him personally soon enough. But a little jolt to his heart wouldn't hurt my reputation." In a blink Zoom has shoved the boy aside hard enough to stun him, so Iris is standing alone.

Len looks away. He's heard plenty of what Zoom does to his victims. He hasn't had the opportunity to be present at one of Zoom's executions. He is now, though, and he can close his eyes all he wants; Len won't be able to block out the screams. Zoom is going to rip this innocent girl apart.

"Wait!" It's the boy again, struggling to get to his feet. "You don't have to do this."

Zoom rolls his eyes. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Len might have too. Seriously? Is the kid going to appeal to the heart of a monster?

Not bothering to spare a glance at the boy, Zoom replies, in bored tones. "Of course, I don't. But I will."

The idiot stumbles over to them, holding up his hands. "You don't have to hurt … Iris, I mean." The way he emphasizes the girl's name piques Zoom's interest just a little.

"And who," Zoom asks slowly, "who would I hurt instead? We've established that someone is going to die today, yes? To prove a specific point to the Detective."

"My name is Barry Allen. I-"

Zoom considers the information and interrupts, "The kid who got hit by lightning and spent nine months in a coma. The news editorials were just sobbing over you. Until I came along, that is. Then I gave them something else to cry about."

"Yes, and—" Barry gulps several times. Then the damning words start to spill out. "—and Joe West is my foster father."

"Interesting," Zoom says after a moment, "but you'll just have to wait your turn."

"I—I was the CSI on his investigation team." Barry Allen fumbles with his tag and shows the proof. "I'm the one who found evidence linking Zoom to an escaped serial murderer scheduled for execution—Hunter Zoloman. You."

Silence.

If Len hadn't heard the words himself, he wouldn't have believed it. Jesus. The kid's signed his own death warrant. Worse. From the terrified but determined expression on his face, Barry Allen knows what he's done to himself.

Zoom regards him silently. "Hm. Now that changes things," he says at last, stalking over to Barry. "Anything else you'd like to share, CSI Barry Allen? Last words, perhaps?"

Scrawny as he is, Barry is of a fair height; he might be hairsbreadth taller than Len, actually. But he has to look up at Zoom, and the effort seems to drain away whatever meager strength he had left. "Please …"

The boy's going to beg now. It's going to be pathetic and tragic and altogether useless, taking into account the information he's just handed Zoom.

Zoom waits for him to finish with uncharacteristic patience. "Yes?"

"Don't make Iris watch," Barry Allen whispers, trembling uncontrollably and clearly forcing himself to keep his gaze steady.

For a moment, Zoom looks almost surprised. Then he laughs loudly, showing teeth. "I'll think about it." Iris takes a step forward in alarmed protest. In a blink Zoom's put her into one of the cages, gagged and bound but not blindfolded.

Zoom stops Barry before he can react to the changed situation. "Now, turn that way and smile." Barry stares at him, uncomprehending, as Zoom points at the wall opposite them. "This is all streaming live," Zoom tells him. "I made sure CCPD can see and hear everything that happens."

Len's brows knot in confusion. Surely, with an open feed like that, Zoom would be traced back to his lair. He couldn't be that stupid.

As though reading his mind, Zoom grins. "Don't worry. I happen to have a tech genius working for me. He'll block any attempts to hack in. And if someone did manage to break through, he's got an eye on every satellite in the city. I can see anyone coming from miles away. Even then … I doubt the cavalry can charge up this cliff without me realizing their presence."

Zoom's arrogant monologue has purpose, Len knows. He's showing off his invincibility, overawing his enemies and exploiting their fear.

Len wonders about this tech genius. If only he could be persuaded to betray Zoom, Zoom would lose an immensely valuable ally.

"His brother is a guest of mine," Zoom explains to Barry, whose legs have given out on him. "Astonishing, really, that the fact gives him so much incentive to assist me."

Zoom leans down, gripping the kid's chin and forcing his face toward the camera. "Enough story time. I have a script for you." He kneels fully, and without warning, simultaneously yanks Barry's head back and his body up with one hand, while the other wraps around the boy's now exposed throat.

The girl—Iris West—shrieks behind her gag. No help can be expected from her. It's not humanly possible. Len's first assumption, too, is that Zoom is going to break Barry's neck right in front of his live audience.

Barry jerks in Zoom's hold before he hears Iris' muffled scream. His eyes flicker to her, and then, oddly, he seems to relax, swaying passively on his knees as he's held upright by Zoom's stranglehold. The boy's thought process is so obvious as to be written in bold above his head. Struggling will only make Zoom angry, and an angry Zoom … doesn't bear thinking about. Suffering his cruelty will be bad enough. Knowing that the girl is about to witness her best friend snapped like a twig … can't happen. He won't let it.

Zoom lowers his mouth to Barry's ear in a mockery of intimacy. "This is what you say. Ready?"

Barry nods mutely. He'll agree to whatever Zoom wants.

"Look straight at the lens—yes, excellent—and tell the good Central City police not to fuck with Zoom. He doesn't like it. Oh, and—" Zoom adds as an afterthought. "This is a public service announcement."

Barry swallows hard, the motion obvious even covered by Zoom's hand, and tries to speak. He can only mouth the words soundlessly. Zoom gives him a shake, making him flail for balance. "This is your big moment, Barry Allen. Your final chance. Don't disappoint."

After a few more pitiful attempts, Barry manages to croak into the camera, "Don't … don't fuck …. with Zo—Zoom. He—" By the time the kid finally finishes the three lines, he's practically incoherent.

Zoom abruptly releases Barry, who slumps, boneless, to the ground. "You won't be winning a speech contest anytime soon. But I think they got the message."


	2. Chapter 2

After that chilling PSA, Zoom lets a few minutes go by without speaking, presumably prolonging his enjoyment of the mind-numbing fear emanating from Barry and Iris.

"I've thought about your request, Barry," Zoom announces, and in a blurry few seconds, Iris is slumped over in the cage. Before Barry can fully register, Zoom waves the chloroformed cloth in front of his face. "I've decided to oblige. In return, you answer a few questions."

Realizing that Zoom is mockingly waiting for his assent, Barry nods quickly. "What … what do you want to know?"

"When you put all the pieces together and discovered that I was not only impersonating Jay Garrick but was, in fact, also Zoom, how did your colleagues react?"

Barry's bewilderment is clear even as he answers, "They … didn't believe me at first."

"Captain Singh was bragging so much about how much cross-referenced data CCPD had collected on me as evidence. What changed their minds?"

Barry starts to glance at Iris but stops himself. Len finds himself praying that Barry says anything other than what he says next. "I proved it." Too late, Barry realizes the responsibility he's assigned to his own perseverance and shuts up.

"I see. As fast as I am, I can't be everywhere at once, now can I? You were clever enough to exploit that fact. In trying to do the impossible, I gave myself away."

Barry doesn't answer.

"Then, I suppose, you became practically a superhero to everyone in the precinct."

Barry remains silent.

"Barry." Zoom doesn't raise his voice, but the menace is unmistakable.

Barry jumps a little at the warning sign. "No—no."

"Oh? Why not?"

"People said … they … they thought I'd just been lucky to come across the theory and that … that Joe's team really put the picture together."

"But that's not the case, is it." Zoom doesn't bother to make the sentence a question. "Thank you for the clarifications, Barry."

The next few minutes are only a small precursor for what's going to happen, Len knows, but knowledge of a worse future doesn't alleviate the present much.

"I'm going to tell you in very clear terms what I want you to do next," Zoom says, crouching in front of Barry. "All right?"

Barry's made so nervous by Zoom's sudden proximity that he almost foregoes a response until Zoom snaps his black-gloved fingers. "… ye-yes."

Sighing, Zoom manhandles Barry into a straighter posture. "Don't slouch. Remember, everyone at the CCPD is watching. You don't want to put on a bad performance."

"A bad-what?" Barry might not have any idea, but Len can see from the small but careful adjustments Zoom's making to the boy's body that he intends to maximize the frontal view.

"Stay," Zoom instructs as he examines the results with a critical eye before standing up. "Here's the important part: unzip your pants, take out your cock, and masturbate in front of your coworkers."

Barry has to hear the words, but it's apparent he isn't following as he continues to stare up at Zoom, who takes out a cell phone and sets an alarm.

"You have ten minutes. If you don't come during that time, I'll wake up Miss West and give her the best seat in the house to see everything I'm going to do to you."

Barry can't seem to break his blank stare. Zoom shows his annoyance with Barry's slow reaction by placing a heavy, booted foot on Barry's crotch and applying pressure, eliciting an agonized cry as Barry doubles over. "Nine and a half minutes."

Within the first minute that Barry tries to comply with Zoom's command, it's obvious he's only going to chafe himself. His hand's shaking so much he can't even get a firm grip. Zoom's persistent comments don't help.

"I used to have stage fright," Zoom says in a conversational tone. "I got over it, though. Now I love attention." He spreads his arms as though accepting a standing ovation. "You just have to suffer the critics. Or get rid of them, in my case."

Eight minutes.

It's hopeless. Right here and now, Barry wouldn't be able to bring himself to climax if he were watching live porn. Instead, he's facing the cold gleam of a device that's capturing every move he makes for the benefit of the people watching.

"Looks like he could use a hand." The words come out casually but Len can hear the strain underlying the easy line because, fuck it all, *he's* saying it.

Eyes widening, Barry twists to see this new threat from the dim corners of the room. Clearly, he hadn't even realized there was another person here besides Zoom and he and Iris.

Zoom levels his freakishly mild gaze at him. "Are you offering, Snart? That's awfully nice of you."

Len lets a thread of scorn enter his voice. "Honestly, it's too painful to watch. I've seen sexier high school biology dissections."

In response Barry curls in on himself, hiding his face in his arms. Len wants to vomit.

Zoom considers Len's suggestion with more thoughtfulness than necessary, simply to draw out the fear and tension.

Len is reasonably sure Zoom will agree. Adding Len into the mix will add an unexpected dimension to a scenario Zoom has already set in place, but the monster seems to enjoy "creative" suggestions from his victims, if Barry's own dismal situation is anything to go by.

Len jangles the manacles attaching his hands to the wall. "I'll need a hand to give him one," he points out. God. Was he doing the right thing? Wasn't he just prolonging the inevitable? There's a small gust of wind … and he's free, Zoom standing in the middle of the room again as if he'd never moved.

Rubbing his sore wrists, Len slowly gets to his feet, trying to think of a way not to further spook Barry into unsalvageable impotence. He's aware, though, that Barry will only see his measured stride as the ominous approach of a predator. As Len is about to enter the lighted area of the room, he pauses because the next step will take him into view of the camera and add "rapist" to his list of official crimes.

Len takes pride in what he does for a living; that his work is illegal only makes success more thrilling. He's killed before, sometimes at point-blank range so that blood and other bits splatter his face, and forgets the slight queasiness by the next morning. At times, he's even engaged in some of the harsher methods of interrogation, but he's done so with purpose and then dispatched the victim quickly.

In short, he doesn't feel inclined to apologize for past actions. Everyone he's deliberately killed has, in his mind at least, which is good enough or him, reason to die without accompanying pity, whether as remorseless murderers themselves or because he was acting in self-defense.

The past sexual encounters he's had have been brief, if fairly frequent, and only briefly satisfying. He prefers things that way because then they can each move on without complications. In his private life he only cares about Lisa and Mick. But he's never resorted to force to have his way with someone. There're some lines he's doesn't cross, as nonsensical as such ethics might sound when compared to snuffing out a person's life.

Len know he's hesitating too long. He takes the required step. And another. One more until he's looming, face in shadow, over Barry, who's trying to move away before remembering there's nowhere he can go and ends by falling back onto his elbows. Steeling himself, Len follows the boy downward.

The boy instinctively struggles as Len's warm and dry left hand closes firmly around his stubbornly soft genitals. Len has to hold him down by one shoulder, but fortunately for them both, Barry's arms tangle in his partially unzipped jacket so he can't get free, and he's too panicked to realize how easily he could slip out. They're practically nose-to-nose before Barry can focus enough to get a good look at Len. "Leonard Snart?" the kid breathes in disbelief. Len's taken aback for a moment before remembering that his face is plastered on the CCPD's priority list.

"Yeah," he confirms gruffly, adjusting his left hand's grip just a little so the tips of his fingers can tease at the sensitive spot behind the boy's cock. Might as well make use of Barry's distracted fanboy moment.

Barry squirms apprehensively under him. "Um … Mr. Snart—"

Len's a goddamn known criminal who, whatever his intentions and personal feelings, from all appearances is molesting—assaulting—a boy who looks like he could be carded at a bar if he gave off a particularly immature vibe that day. Len is not the friendly neighbor with two kids at the local high school, a middle-class job he'll never quit, and a housewife addicted to daytime soap operas.

At the moment, he can't think of how this situation could be worse. Touching Barry, who's so obviously afraid that his green eyes have gone glassy and whose skin is clammy with cold sweat, is like trying to make out with a mannequin in a department store that has the air conditioner blasting away.

Six minutes.

"Just Len," he tells Barry, methodically using his elbows to urge the boy's thighs apart so that he can kneel more comfortably between them.

"M—Len … Len, I haven't …" Barry starts to pant but keeps talking as if he doesn't realize his body's reaction to Len's hold on him. "… ever … uh … uh …" His head falls back to loll heavily on his neck, but he's still stuttering admissions Len would rather not have known. "I … don't … what … uh … uh …"

Len hurries his work along, pulling at Barry's cock in long, tight strokes until the delicate flesh hardens. With his now freed right hand Len pushes the sweater under the jacket up, baring a slim, flat chest and small nipples flushed and taut from the sudden cold.

Len's been concentrating so deeply on fighting down his nausea at violating this innocent boy that he just now notices that Barry's gaze is desperately fixated on him, as if Len's the only anchor he has to stop himself from flying apart.

"Close your eyes," Len instructs, inserting a soothing note into his voice. It might help Barry too, to forget his surroundings, but Len has to admit the command is selfish. Len isn't sure he can keep going if he has to look the boy in the face.

Barry obeys.

Four minutes.

Shit. The boy gets close, so close, and then loses the erection as he startles every several seconds, remembering where he is, who's watching, and what's happening to him.

Three minutes.

Now Barry can hear the seconds ticking away, and the knowledge only fuels his anxiety, rendering Len's ministrations useless. Despair over his hopeless situation is winning over physical arousal.

Len isn't feeling optimistic himself. By this point, his very willing sex partner would have reciprocated enthusiastically, and they'd be enjoying mutual pleasure.

Len's next move will either cause the boy to wilt entirely or climax. There's no in-between. He flattens his lower body onto Barry's so that their crotches are aligned and grinds down with his hips. Barry's eyes snap open at the first motion, and immediately roll back to show the whites at the second. A few more seconds pass and Len's pausing to find a better angle before Barry says in a broken whisper, "Uhh … uh … please, Len … wait ... uh ... don't ..."

There's no time to listen, much less wait. Barry's starting to think too much again, and Len has to put a stop to that. In response to Barry's protests, Len pulls him forward with a hand on the back of Barry's neck and presses his lips hard to the boy's gasping mouth.

Two minutes forty-five seconds.

Len makes the terrible parody of a kiss as filthy as possible, taking advantage of Barry's parted lips to push his tongue inside and take control, forcing him to stay still with a grip on one shoulder and his other hand quickly shifting between the boy's exposed nipples and rapidly stiffening cock.

Barry's flailing hands, not knowing where to go, settle on Len's biceps and squeeze to the point of pain, disingenuously tugging him back when Len puts an inch of distance between them. They have to breathe. Barry's near hyperventilating already but he's whispering something repeatedly that Len doesn't have time to pay attention to.

A little more than a minute left. Almost there. Almost. Len mouths at Barry's throat, feeling the pulse jump erratically beneath his tongue. This close he hears what Barry's been saying over and over. "Please don't make me come. Please. Please … don't—"

It's an irrational request and would defeat the whole point of this farce. But Barry isn't thinking straight. Len will have to decide for him. Hands still occupied with the rest of Barry's body, Len bites down at the juncture between neck and shoulder.

That's it.

Despite his apprehension, Barry can't hold out against so many new sensations attacking at once. He comes with a sobbing whimper into Len's mouth. Len sighs inwardly in relief, holding the boy as he shakes violently and moans. A pretty flush has spread over his cheeks and his skin has regained human warmth.

Barry hasn't finished climaxing when the alarm rings.

If that had not been enough reminder, a bright light startles them both. It's Zoom, holding a phone a bit awkwardly in the air in front of him, its cameras lens glimmering.

"I just remembered to turn on the flash," Zoom explains. "I did have the lens zoomed in the entire time, though. The output ought to be in full HD resolution." He sounds irritated as he continues, "I should have gotten a smartphone with one of those 4K cameras."

Len curses bitterly under his breath as Barry goes white again and automatically tries to close his legs. Before he can stop himself, Len snarks, "Not too tech-savvy?"

Zoom is looking down at the phone screen, fiddling with the touch options. "Now, now. Don't be snippy. Ah. There we go." Even before Zoom turns the screen to them, the sound of rustling clothes and soft moans makes immediately apparent what he's showing them.

Len looks stoically at the video replaying what had just taken place. It can't be worse than seeing the horror-stricken humiliation he knows is on Barry's face.

"Goes by a little fast, doesn't it? Here, I'll slow it down." Zoom presses another button, and the close shot of Len tilting Barry's face up to kiss him shows Barry's pleasure-dazed expression, saliva trickling out of the corners of his mouth, transitions into another close shot of Len's hand fisting Barry's cock as it hardens in slow motion. "I just learned how to add these … transitions, right?"

Barry makes a choking sound.

Zoom grins boyishly. "I think I'm getting the hang of this tech stuff. Pretty cool effects, huh? For a beginner."

Len prepares himself to turn to Barry, wants to say something, anything, but Zoom gets to him first. Flipping through a slideshow, Zoom says, "Back to what I was saying. What's wrong with this picture?" He's stopped at an early point, when Len first tried to arouse Barry by fondling his balls. Inadvertently, Len had lifted the boy's genitals to give a clear shot of his tightly clenched anus if taken from a proper angle. "Besides the obvious—that you need to work on your seduction techniques, Barry. The virgin act is overdone."

It's too much. Barry staggers to his feet, tripping over his own pants as he tries to snatch the phone from Zoom. Zoom only laughs and in the next instant is behind Barry, holding both wrists in a vice-like grip that lifts the boy off the ground, as he tucks the phone into his belt.

"I'm waiting," Zoom says, his free hand snaking down the front of Barry's pants, still loosely open at the crotch. In a single tug it's down to his thighs. "So is everyone in the audience." Frantic, the boy tries to kick at Zoom or twist out of his hold, but quickly realizes that every move causes his pants to fall further down his legs. It's a little past his knees now. Barry stills, drawing in ragged breaths, beyond furious but recognizing his utter helplessness.

Zoom lifts Barry's swinging body higher to match his greater height and positions a knee to keep the boy's legs spread. Barry cringes as his own weight crushes his bare genitals against Zoom's muscled thigh before noticing that he's on full display for the camera on the wall. Again, his struggles only spread him wider. He's crying, body involuntarily jerking with the force of his sobs, and whatever Len does will make the situation worse.

But Len has to do something. He takes a chance. "You told him to get himself off," Len says flatly. "I did it for him."

Zoom turns to him, smiling with approval, before looking back on Barry with a severe eye. "Precisely. That was the deal. I held up my end and knocked out Miss West as we agreed." He inclines his head at the unconscious girl in the cage. "Gently, too. You, however …" Zoom shakes the boy a few times, as if to chastise him.

Barry's pants pool around his ankles. With his shirt twisted inside his jacket so that it rides up high on his chest and bunches under his arms, Barry's effectively naked from the neck down. He goes rigid in realization but somehow manages to speak. "I'm … I'm sorry," Barry stammers, looking sick to his stomach. "I'm sorry. I tried … I …"

"Not hard enough, it seems," Zoom remarks, with a little chuckle at his own joke. "But Snart doesn't seem to have the same problem."

Snart glances down and is genuinely surprised to see that he has an erection. It doesn't seem possible that his head has so disconnected from his body that one doesn't know what the other is doing. The last couple of minutes, when he'd held the boy as Barry clutched at him and shuddered through orgasm, had been more to comfort than offer anything else. That part hadn't been terrible. Near the end, Snart had closed his own eyes and concentrated on what would make Barry feel good, which was what he'd have done under ordinary conditions. The boy's unpracticed but honest response had engendered reciprocal enjoyment on Len's part.

"I'm disappointed, Barry. I thought you'd do better. But, we have to keep moving on or we won't finish everything I had planned for today's agenda." Zoom lets the boy's wrists fall to his sides but keeps Barry still dangling in the air with a crushing hold on his narrow hips. Surprised by the sudden release, Barry would have pitched forward if Zoom hadn't positioned his grip so that Barry would fall back against him. The boy shouts in surprise, but then quiets. Instead of struggling this time, Barry goes motionless except for the occasional full-body tremor. The brilliant green of his eyes is the only color in his ashen face.

Len doesn't know the reason for Barry's extreme reaction until Zoom demonstrates with an obscene upward thrust of his pelvis, using his grip on Barry's hips to rock him back and forth until the boy is simply bobbing helplessly midair. He thrusts a few more times and then tosses Barry in a sprawl onto the ground. Now that Barry's body isn't swaying in front of Zoom, Len can see that Zoom is sporting an enormous erection himself.

Standing up, Len forces his expression into impassivity, but his skin is crawling as Zoom says, "That show you two put on was … a bit PG-13 for my tastes. I like my entertainment a little more mature." Suddenly he's leaning on the cage containing Iris, who thankfully hasn't stirred. Barry starts to say something before Zoom holds up hand, looking between the boy and Len.

"That said, do I need to step in to address my concerns? Or do you think you can take care of it for me, Snart?" Zoom flicks a middle finger against the cage's bars, causing a metallic sound to ring out.

Len knows the "correct" answer but he can't bring himself to say it.

Malice dances in Zoom's eyes, distorting his handsome appearance. "You two seemed to be getting along so well. I thought you'd like to make a good first impression for Barry, rather than, say, his sixth or seventh, after I'm done with him."

Zoom makes a careless gesture, as unconcerned as though his huge cock isn't visibly engorged in his pants. "He's fucked either way."


	3. Chapter 3

This isn't a choice or even a test, at this point. Zoom just wants to screw with them every way possible. Len glances over at Barry, who he finds staring back at him, looking absurdly vulnerable, his semen-stained pants hanging off one ankle, dirtied white cotton socks still on his feet. "Please, let me," Len says, biting off the words with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

"Well, if you insist." Zoom melodramatically backs off. "I assume you need some space to work?"

"And more than fifteen minutes would be appreciated," Len says, though he's not overly hopeful of getting this request granted.

Zoom smirks at Len's demand; they both know Zoom's only going along insofar as he's amused by the situation. "Sure. I'll get a good game of Traffic Rider going."

It'd be easier on himself and Barry if he took the boy on hands and knees. In addition to the logistics of the position, they'd hardly have to interact with each other on a personal level at all.

"The next … hm, hour … is going to be filler," Zoom informs the camera. "Although, I doubt that the true fans will change the channel. The finale will be just too exciting to accidentally miss." He relaxes into an armchair that just shows up near the entrance.

Len's trying to figure out how to make this work with the least pain involved. He'll jerk the boy off again, or at least get him aroused enough to relax. Len hasn't missed the conspicuous omission of a condom or lube. How to proceed from then on … he'll play by the seat of his pants.

Caught up in unhappy musings, Len's surprised to see that Barry has shuffled over and is now kneeling in front of him. He might have been talking already but Len hasn't been paying attention, so he just nods, still distracted. There's a look of intense concentration in the boy's face that's more in relation to a final exam that he hadn't studied for than fun impromptu sex as he places his hands on the ground and lowers his body so that he can mouth at Len's still covered crotch.

Len almost jumps out of his skin at the first unexpected touch of moist breath on him. "Jesus!" His cock is distinctly not thrilled when, surprised himself by Len's abrupt reaction, Barry sits up.

"Sorry," the boy whispers, chagrined. "Did I … did I something wrong?"

Yeah, you listened to my big mouth and stopped what you were doing. Len takes him by the shoulders so that they have direct eye contact. "First, warn a guy."

"I asked. You nodded," Barry says, puzzled.

"You want explicit verbal permission," Len tells him, belatedly realizing he's coming across as a pedantic lecturer on the ethics of consensual sex. From Barry's stifled if nervous laugh, he agrees. "… in normal conditions," Len admits.

Barry considers this. "I'll take that under advisement." Cheeky brat. "Can I give you a blowjob?"

"Do you know how?" Len has to ask. He's actually not going to accept Barry's offer regardless of the answer, but his response will help Len gauge how far the boy's along in his personal sex life. As it turns out, not far.

"Um. I won't bite. I'll try not to," Barry amends, uncertain again.

"Right. We're going to stick to hand jobs and then … go from there."

Barry really is laughing at him, albeit quietly. "Len, I know what happens at the end." He sobers before continuing, "I'm really— thanks for—well, the pity fuck," followed immediately by an automatic, "Sorry."

Len can't recall the last time he's had such an awkward conversation, except, true, since he'd basically raised Lisa, he'd had to read up on menstrual cycles and other specifically female signs of puberty.

"Guess I'm just that good a Samaritan," Len tells him, dryly. He can hear Zoom humming absently, off-key, along to the game theme. "We might as well get started."

Barry nods and reaches for the zipper on Len's pants. Len's about to protest that he can do that himself, but then decides against it. Giving the boy some measure of control would probably be a good change of pace for him.

Giving in, Len reaches for Barry himself and starts to pull and stroke gently. Luckily for them both, the boy responds beautifully.

"Len ... uhn … why're … uh … you here?" It's Barry, looking at him with a grave curiosity that would be amusing if his breathy gasps didn't keep interrupting his words. What an innocent kid. It's like he's never been touched by another person besides himself.

Len stops momentarily, pondering the thought, before recalling their situation. "This really isn't the time or place for chitchat," Len hisses before going back to work.

"There isn't going to be a … uh … uh … a better time or place," Barry says, reasonably enough. The sobering realization allows him to recollect himself enough to take Len's cock out of his pants and look at it curiously for a few moments before hesitantly putting his hand fully around it. His attempts to imitate what Len's doing to him are a little funny and weirdly sweet.

Len sighs. "Zoom has my sister. I'm stealing something for him tonight."

Barry tilts his head to the side, appearing like nothing more than an inquisitive owl. "Something he can't get himself? That's strange."

Barry seems much calmer now than before, and Len has to wonder why. The boy must sense his surprise because he explains with remarkable steadiness, "I won't have to … uhn … face anyone … after … uhn .. today."

The matter-of-factness in the way he says this might possibly be most horrible way Len's ever heard horrible news delivered. He resigns himself to conversation because the alternative is too fucking sad. Barry might as well have some last good memories, however worthwhile those will be in the end.

"I don't believe we've met." They might have, actually, but if Len had encountered Barry Allen on the street before now, it's completely slipped his mind because the young man is just so unassuming.

"Oh, we … uhn … haven't," Barry assures him. "I've seen you on surveillance cameras."

Len's eyebrows raise. "Are all CSIs voyeurs like you?"

Barry sputters and then laughs a little. "It's in the … uh …job description."

"You're a little young, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-four," Barry says, firmly enough that Len can tell he's had to prove this fact many times. Len breathes out and surreptitiously starts coating his fingers with the precome that's trickling from the tip of Bary's cock.

"Like I said. You must have just joined, then."

"A few years ago," Barry says, as if that wasn't unusual. "I double-majored and graduated early."

Len typically doesn't admire booksmarts. But he can appreciate that Barry's bright, even if he is stupidly naïve. He nods along as Barry continues to prattle on about a brilliant scientist, some Dr. Harrison Wells, whose particle accelerator had unfortunately exploded, silently dropping his hand to press the pads of his fingers against the rim of Barry's opening. Barry jerks and falls silent, his lips pressed together, body tensely unyielding.

"That's a coincidence," Len remarks idly. "I've been in this business since … hm … since you were born, kid. But I only got on the CCPD's radar as me a few years ago. I'm guessing you helped them out."

Unexpectedly, Barry stifles a sound that is suspiciously akin to a snicker. He's stopped touching Len. Len notices, and his cock notices very much, but he decides not to comment.

Len frowns. "Why is that funny?" He covertly slips a finger into Barry. The sensation waiting for him makes his cock jump like he's a teenager again.

"It's an … inside joke," Barry tells him, humor fading from his voice, replaced by apprehension despite his obvious efforts to keep talking.

"Sure. The joke's so inside you're the only one laughing." Len adds another finger, eliciting a half-aroused, half fearful shudder.

"Iris would laugh too. She's in on it," Barry informs him.

Silence. Len thought he should say something to divert Barry's attention from the slick sounds Len was making while fingering him. "I'm guessing you became a CSI to catch the bad guys."

"No—I ... I wanted to help—uh ... help people." The kid pauses and glances down. "Um. I know this is a stupid question … but how are you going to, uh, fit?"

"Don't worry about it," Len says calmly. "Keep talking."

"Okay," the boy says obediently. "Uh. What—ummm—what should I talk about?"

Now he's speechless. Great. "Anything. How about … those rumors about a red streak in Central City? What do you think it is?"

Barry somehow brightens visibly even his shoulders hunch while Len manages to push in another finger. "Definitely a speedster."

"A … what?"

"A metahuman who can run really, really fast." Barry took a deep breath, exhaled, and took another.

"Uh huh. So another Zoom. How is this good news?" Len's always enjoyed the preparation part of sex, liked to take his time, take his partner apart before putting her, or him, back together. This hasty act, besides the actual imminent rape, is driving home exactly how wrong the entire scenario is.

"No. The Fla—he isn't like Zoom at all." Barry's hands are grinding into Len's arms as Len scissors his fingers several times.

"No, daydreams usually aren't evil incarnate." Len grunts as he positions himself and adjusts Barry for penetration. "I read the headlines: 'The Flash streaks by in a blur.' Unfortunate choice of names, if you ask me."

Barry's eyes are an incredibly vivid green, Len notes as the boy locks eyes with him, determinedly not reacting too badly to the beginning intrusion. "You don't think the Flash is real? That he'll do something about Zoom? He's not as fast yet, but—"

Len snorts. "The Flash of Central City will save us all. Yeah. Barry, he's a fairytale people made up because reality's a shithole. A fairytale like a serum that can stop Zoom."

Barry stares at him, wide-eyed from more than the slow, torturous slide Len's making into his body.

Trying to turn his gaze from Barry's flushed face, Len makes the mistake of looking down instead and sees where their bodies are joined. The sight is so fucking hot he almost finishes right there. As it is, Len can feel himself harden even further and grow bigger. From Barry's wince, the boy can feel it too. "Sorry," Len says, carefully, to keep his voice from shaking.

"It's … it's, uh, okay. Len, listen to me. The Flash and the serum aren't made up."

Len frowns, thinking. "How do you know?"

Barry leans forward, so close his lips brush Len's ear.

"I'm seen it. The serum works on the Flash."

Len closes his eyes. The entire world seems to balance on the sudden hope Barry has just given him. "The serum. That must be what Zoom wants me to get for him. It's inside Argos HQ."

Barry shakes his head. "No."

"You know where it is, then?"

"Yes."

The information is so staggering that Len freezes before he's fully reentered the boy. "My God, Barry—"

Barry's eyes dart to the side and back and then he tugs Len forward by the arm, literally pulling Len into him. Seeing Barry cringe in pain at the sudden invasion, Len remembers himself enough to reestablish control of how fast he's moving.

"Barry—if you tell Zoom—you could—there's a chance—" Len tries to think about how exactly Barry could use the knowledge to his advantage—there must be a way—but his mental faculties are fogged by the hot, incredibly tight feeling of Barry's body around him.

"No. Zoom—he can't … uh … find out." Barry grits his teeth and Len isn't thinking when he catches a flushed earlobe and starts sucking on it to distract the boy.

They resettle into a slow rocking rhythm and it takes a few more seconds for Len to remember his train of thought. "Of course you have to—"

"The serum is our only chance to bring down Zoom now."

"Wait. What about the Flash? Maybe he could—"

Barry shakes his head. "Forget about him. I shouldn't have brought him up."

"Why not?"

"He's not … he's not going to be a factor, moving forward." Before Len can ask further, Barry continues quickly. "Go to Star Labs. Tell them you're a friend of mine. Caitlin and Cisco will help you with whatever you need."

And what do I say happened to you? Len wants to demand. "That easy, huh?" is what he manages to get out.

They don't talk again after that, until Len comes in a gradual, terribly satisfying climax. He pulls out.

Len doesn't realize he's crying before Barry reaches over to brush away a traitorous tear from his eye and gives him a sweet smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. There's a rising tide of an unbearable tightness in Len's chest, and he's so caught up in not being overwhelmed that he almost doesn't hear Barry's last words to him.

"Don't watch, okay?"


End file.
